Forever, In a Moment
by lucyqdarling
Summary: The story of two girls, and the struggles they can face in this big world. Spans from 3x14 to 42 yrs in the future. Faberry endgame, some mentioned Quinntana and Fabrevans.
1. Prologue

The year is twenty-fifty four. You're married to the most perfect woman in the world – well, in your eyes. You're sure there are other people that think their respective spouse is the most perfect person to set foot on planet earth, but you know they're all wrong. You're right. You have Rachel Berry, clearly you're the one that's right in this situation. If they were married to her, they'd think the same thing. It's an inescapable feeling, this one. Feeling as if you're the luckiest person ever; as if no one could ever know the amount of love, passion, disbelief that she's really yours, that you do. Other people's lives surely aren't like this – you're confident in saying. They haven't, and probably never will go through half of the things that you, and Rachel, have struggled through in your lives. But you know it's been worth it. And this will be too.

It's definitely not going to be easy. Nothing ever has been when it comes to you two, it seems. But hey, life isn't easy. You learned that at a very young age. And now you're sixty, and the lesson has sunk in more than you would have liked it to. Life doesn't always go your way, you've learned, more so than you ever thought you would, but it sure as hell goes the way that you should be going. The fact is, and to quote The Rolling Stones, you can't always get what you want, but you get what you need. You needed Rachel Berry, more than you could have ever thought at fifteen, when you met. It took a lot of trying, it took a lot of pain, it took a lot of tears... but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.


	2. Chapter 1: Drowning, Surviving

Authors Note: Okay! We're back in time here, to right after On My Way. Enjoy!

You've fallen into a dark abyss. It's a place you never thought you'd be, but here you are, and you can't quite place how you go about getting out, but all you hear is her voice. It pull you closer to the light of day, nearer to reality that hardly three hours ago you hated with every fiber of your very being; but now, it seems like reality is the best gift you could have ever been given. You hear her rushed voice, her soft pants – probably from running up the steps when the elevator failed to come at a fast enough pace – she always had been an impatient one. You hear the worried tone in her voice, unlike all of the other voices you can depict from the chaos around you, and if you're being honest with yourself, it's the only one you wanted to hear in the first place.

Two years ago, you hated that voice. You wished you could rip her vocal chords out with your bare hands and do a sombrero dance around them, just to get her to shut the hell up. But even then, you never truly felt that way, did you? You loved that voice, even when it was cutting, harsh, spoke words you forced yourself to deny. Even when the words you heard were spiteful and meant to hurt – but never meant to hurt – you loved them. You savored them. You clung to them. You weren't supposed to, no. You were supposed to cling to his words, hang to them as if they were the last words you would ever hear, and in the last voice you wanted to grace your ears if some higher power decided that minute were to be the last minute you were to have on earth. But instead, if that was your last moment on earth, you didn't want to hear his voice, or his, or his. But only hers. What you'd have given to hear her sing one more time before you lost the image of her face. But you never lost the image. It stayed in the back of your mind, despite the fact they were all saying you were in a sleep so deep they couldn't wake you. Except, she's not really there. You realize that now. Her voice, her face, her everything is in her mind, and you don't if you want to know where she is.

You were in a coma. And the only thing that kept you clinging on to your last breath of life was the face of the starlet – the same one that was to be wedded to _him _the same day the bedamned truck decided you weren't good enough to, not only have her, but attend the wedding that you didn't even want to happen. You didn't want it to happen, not at all, but you wanted to be there for her. You wanted to make eye contact with her as she was walking down the aisle and plead for her to realize and hear all of the words that you had never been courageous enough to say yourself. The last chance you would have at changing her mind, changing her path, changing both of your lives was taken from you when you took a chance and texted back. How very stupid that had been, you scold yourself mentally, since you can't verbally. You could have ignored the incessant texts, but they were from _her_, and how were you to know what would be said in them? It could be anything from _'Never mind, I don't want you to be here.' _to '_I changed my mind. It's been you all along.' _And that was a chance you weren't willing to take.

And now you're landed yourself here. In the world's most uncomfortable hospital bed, but you don't care about that. You hardly feel it, after all. And it's the last thing on your mind. There's a darkness, but the darkness is blinding. You want to pull yourself out of the darkness, into the _real _light, but you can't find the strength to. You hear voices, but you don't feel anything. Not really, at least. You're sure if she was there, you'd feel her hand in yours, but why would she be there? You're not hers, she's not yours. She has no reason to be there, other than the small friendship you somehow maintained throughout the past four years. To you, that friendship was something more than it was. Always hovering on the edge, waiting for you to grow a pair of lady balls and make the move that you knew in the back of your mind you needed to make before it was too late.

You're lost in her, when you hear a voice. It's soft, but it's recognizable. It's one of the very last people you talked to, besides _her_. It's one of the three people that truly understands what you had been going through prior to the accident, prior to whatever the hell this is. It's Santana, you recognize. Judging from the tone of her voice – and you've gotten quite good at that – she's arguing with a nurse about the family only policy. Your mother, another one of the three, is out of town, and she's arguing that someone has to be there for you, and it should most definitely be her. The nurse is arguing back, but Santana is winning. You can't say you're overly surprised about that fact. She _is _from Lima Heights; a place that the rich white girl nurse wouldn't think about setting foot. It may also be slightly beneficial that her father is your assigned doctor, you're reasonably sure. He can surely sneak her in. Finally you hear the nurse give way, more than likely because of Dr. Lopez stepping in and convincing her she's fighting a losing battle. You hear Santana's voice nearer to you, Dr. Lopez voicing to her to be gentle, not bump the wires, and you'll be damned if she doesn't respond to him in that famous _I'm-not-a-two-year-old-daddy, _voice. You can vaguely hear the ruffling of her dress, and you wonder how. But you recall reading something about people in coma's having increased senses. Maybe hearing is yours.

"Listen, blondie," Santana begins, and you don't think you've ever heard her sounding so broken. "You gotta wake up, okay? Or I swear to god, I will hit you so hard over that blonde mane of yours you couldn't wake up even if I told you to. Which I am. So do it, god damn it." You want to chuckle at her threat, but you can't. You want to, but you can't. Hasn't that been your entire life? You want to be a good daughter, but you can't. You want to keep Beth, but you can't. You want to tell Rachel, but you can't. You want to, but you never can. And once again, you want to, but you can't. It's a struggle, but you know it's not worth fighting. It'll just exhaust you to the point of not being able to hear so well. You hear a soft sigh, and the sound of a scratchy dress settling in the uncomfortable hospital chair. It's shocking that she's hear alone, Brittany nowhere to be found – though you know her aversion to hospitals – but you don't question it. She always did have a soft spot when she needed to, and given your rocky relationship, but the steady turn it had taken lately, it's not all too surprising she's the first one to see you.

But despite your gratitude, you don't want her. You hardly even want your mom. You want _her. _You know she's off getting hitched, probably unaware of your absence, or _why _you're not there. But you can't help it. In reality, standing on your own two feet, you're strong enough to fight it. But now, in the darkness that is your state for the time being, you can't help but feel like you're not good enough. And how silly of you to think you could be good enough for her. You gave her the choice, and she chose Finn. Or so you think.

You spend the rest of the day, or however long it's been, listening to Santana's breathing. Now and then you hear doctor's voices, nurses shuffling in and out of the room. It's quite boring, but you're stuck. You're strong enough to think, and hold yourself above the sea threatening to envelope you and drown you like a little mouse that wandered into the water, but you're not strong enough to reach the shore quite yet. You're drowning, but you're surviving.


End file.
